Jerry's Past
by Clue Impaired
Summary: How Jerry got to where he is.


Disclaimer: Most of these characters belong to Dick Wolf. You'll know those who don't.

**JERRY'S PAST**

Jerry watched Karen taking care of Frannie Goren and he had to admit she was good with kids. Of course, she would be. She had been raised in a home with a frequently rotating populace of varying ages. She had told him that all of the older kids were expected to help with the younger ones and the newbies. Yet she had a special touch with the kids that spoke of a natural aptitude more than practice.

Jerry had no brothers or sisters and he regretted it. His mother had all but abandoned him when he was ten and his father had at best been only an indifferent parent. He made sure there was food in the house, that Jerry had clothes and that he went to school, but he didn't care for anyone. He didn't hate, he didn't love, he just was. Jerry had gotten his education in life, families and relationships from kids at school. Not always the best influences.

In his teens, Jerry had been in the local grocery store with his friends when they dared him to steal a bottle of beer. These guys were the only influence he had in his life except for the teachers at school who considered him just another failure in the making. No one since his third grade teacher had bothered to speak to his father about his grades, they hadn't cared. His friends at least cared.

They were joking around with the clerk in the store when Jerry sidled up to the shelf with the beer and put a bottle under his sweater. He was a big guy and the sweater was bulky. He thought no one could tell he had it. He was wrong. As soon as he stepped outside the door, the local sheriff had been waiting and he was arrested. His so called good friends had denied that he was with them and left him in the custody of the law. He tried to explain that it was only a joke, but the Deputy didn't believe him and had taken him into custody. It changed his life.

As a juvenile detainee, he was kept in a cell all alone, but there had been only bars between him and the main holding cell. In the three hours that he was there, Jerry learned a lot about the seamy side of life. He saw drunks, he saw wife beaters who bragged about how their wives would never cross them again, he saw men so hung over they could only wretch in the toilet and curl up miserably on the floor of the cell. He saw how the deputies treated them like they were useless, miserable excuses for men and he wanted to crawl under the cot in the cell and hide.

That night in the jail had been all it had taken him to realize he didn't want to be the one on the inside of the cell. He wanted to be the one on the outside. He'd gone before the judge and was given community service as a first time offender and sent to live with his mother at her house. His mom had cried for hours and his stepfather had threatened to beat him for a week if he ever did anything like that again. That threat didn't concern him that much, because the man was frequently drunk and smaller than Jerry, but his mothers sobs had really been hard to take.

As soon as his community service was finished, Jerry left that town for another and set about trying to get hired at the sheriffs office. It wasn't easy. The sheriff was a hardnosed man who saw Jerry as a punk and thought he was after something, the drugs in the evidence room or guns, but Jerry made friends with one of the deputies and eventually he was able to go to the police academy. The academy wasn't easy and Jerry had a hard time fitting in, as he was used to thinking of the police as the enemy. Within two months of being there, Jerry figured out why he'd never stood a chance as a petty criminal. He didn't want to be one. He liked the force, the camaraderie, and the feeling of belonging he had. It gave him the feeling of family his own had not.

Seven months after graduation, Jerry was out on the back roads patrolling when a call came that a convenience store had been robbed at gunpoint and the car was headed his way. Jerry pulled up along side a stand of trees and waited for the car to come by. He joined in the chase and kept right up behind the fleeing vehicle. Another patrol car behind him was closing fast, but Jerry knew the roads better and was able to keep up with the robbery suspects. He knew as soon as the criminals did that they'd made a mistake in turning onto a dirt road. With the spring rains, the road was sloppy and the bridge had washed out.

A mile later the fleeing car hit a series of potholes and went off into the ditch. Jerry pulled up and got out with his gun drawn." "Get out of the vehicle with your hands up." He called exactly as he was supposed to.

The drivers door opened and a man jumped out with a gun waving in the air. "I'm giving up." He called. He lowered the hand with the gun, but he had no intention of doing what he'd said. He pointed the gun at Jerry and popped off a couple of rounds.

Jerry took his training to heart and was behind the door to the car. He shot back and the man dropped in the road, screaming in pain. Jerry carefully moved forward to kick the mans gun away from him. He could hear sirens in the distance. He picked up the gun and check the mans condition. The shots had hit him in the shoulder and the arm, but he'd live. Carefully, keeping his eye on the man, he edged over to see if he'd been alone.

Crouched in the car was one of the guys he'd grownup with. One of the ones who'd left him in the store to be arrested. Except this was no friend of his. The guy had a small gun in his hand. Jerry pointed his gun at his former friend. "Drop it, Lester."

"Jerry? Jerry Wilkes? Man, am I glad to see you." Lester said.

"Drop the gun, Lester, or I'll shoot you where you are." Jerry ordered.

"Sure, old buddy." Lester made as if to drop the gun, but he too brought it up and aimed it at Jerry.

As much as he wanted to believe that this was a dream, Jerry was forced to shoot his assailant. Lester had never been very bright, and Jerry didn't have any choice. He tried to shoot him in the shoulder or hand, but in the uncertain light, the bullet went down Lesters throat and he was dead before he hit the seat.

Sick with anger at the circumstances, Jerry returned to the man who'd first come after him. It was another old acquaintance, Steve Woloznik. Except this was not the Steve he'd known. This Steve was cursing him and attempting to fight him off as Jerry took out his handcuffs and was putting them on when the other patrol car pulled up.

Rob Miller, the deputy who'd given Jerry his start, was the back up officer on the scene. He took in the entire scene and realized his protégé had been able to handle himself at a scene. As was procedure, he took Jerry's weapon while they waited for the ambulance and the Sheriff, but he heard Jerrys version of what had happened and concurred that he'd done what he'd had to.

Steve Woloznik was screaming police brutality and giving conflicting reports to anyone who would listen by the time they hauled him away in the ambulance. He threw accusations at Jerry and Rob and even the ambulance attendants. He was trying to make a case for himself, but only succeeded in blowing his case all together.

The Sheriff gave Jerry the evil eye at first until he heard Millers statement and they found the gun in the car near Lesters body and the hold up money. He gave Jerry

one weeks paid time off and assurance that he had a job when he got back. After his return, however, the Sheriff had placed him in the lowest possible position, with the worst hours in the department and even had him pulling duty at the door to the school ball games.

Jerry went to Rob Millers home and his wife Lisa let him in. "Jerry, how are you?" she asked softly.

"I'm here to see Rob. Is he in?" Jerry smiled at the woman.

"He's out in the garage. Go ahead and go back. I'll put on some lemonade."

Rob Millers garage was a tribute to muscle cars. He had pictures and poster all over the walls. He was under the hood to one of his favorites when he heard Jerry call a greeting. "Over here, Jerr." He called.

"Hey, Rob." Jerry came over and greeted his mentor with a handshake.

'So what brings you out here, or do I need to ask?" Rob eyed his friend with a knowing eye.

"It's this business since the shooting. I thought I'd made good on it. Now I'm back to where I was when I first started the force. What gives?"

Miller contemplated his answer for a few moments while wiping his hands with a rag. "The good Sheriff is afraid for his job." He said quietly.

"Afraid for his….I'm the lowest deputy in the department. I'm barely making a dent in the crime in the county. If he is afraid of anything he should be worried about you or Lynn or Charlie…."

"He doesn't have to worry about us and he knows it."

"What is he worried about?"

"You, Jerry. He's worried about you. Our good sheriff is getting old and set in his ways, and so are most of us. We've been together too long and the department is getting slow and lazy in the practices. It needs new blood, new ideas and after the shooting some people are looking at you to run for Sheriff."

"Me? I just graduated from the police…."

"Not now. But in the future. You have a natural way with people and you're something of a hero to the locals. They're thinking with a few years training under your belt you'd make a fine Sheriff, after he retires, of course. So he's trying to impede your career by making it hard for you to show him up."

"You're serious."

"I am very serious. And my advice to you, whether or not you want it, is to get out of here while you have a chance to make your mark. I think he's going to try to make your record so murky that you'll need a shovel to get out of here."

"This sounds like a bad movie."

"Maybe he's been seeing too many of them, but that's how the wind is blowing. Jerry, you've come a long way from the kid who spent the night in jail, you have a long career ahead of you, if you can get out now. Do it! Take your shot! Take the bull by the horns and go somewhere where you can make a difference. When you're a big shot cop come back and see me and we'll catch up on old times."

"I had no idea that this was so deep."

"I know it. I didn't either."

"Why don't you go too, Rob. We can get hired somewhere together."

Rob shook his head. "I had the same chance you have now. I blew it. I met Lisa and we fell in love. I stayed here until I could clear my record, now this is the only place I can do what I love. I'm content here, for what it's worth. You don't have to settle for this. Go. See what you can do. Who knows, maybe you'll make detective someday." Rob held out his hand and shook Jerrys. "Go. Now, tonight. I'll tell the Sheriff that you found another job and have moved on."

Jerry stumbled out of the garage and went back to his apartment, packed up his few things and left the area.

CICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICICIC

"Jerry, hello, Jerry, Earth to Jerry." Karen waved a hand at him, with a smile. "Are you alright?"

"Sure. I was just thinking. What's up?"

"I need her bottle out of the warmer."

"I'll get it."

He brought the bottle to her and watched her adjust the baby in her arm so she could feed her. "That doesn't look very appetizing." He commented.

Karen grinned at him. "You aren't a baby. And it's breast milk. You're probably used to it's original packaging."

"I didn't…I mean I never…." Jerry felt himself coloring.

"Don't worry. I won't tell." Karen teased him more. "Sit down before you faint. If they come in and find you on the floor, I'll never get to baby sit again."

Jerry sat down and watched the hungry little miss gulp the bottle. "You'll make a good mom someday."

"Maybe some day. If I find the right man. So as long as we have time, how is it that you come to be here in Major Case?"

Jerry smiled and sat back in his chair to tell her.

Fin


End file.
